Set during/after S2 "The Bus." Samantha needed something more than just a drink. She needed someone to understand. She needed Martin. S/M
Chapter One: Who Kicked A Hole In The Sky So The Heavens Would Cry Over Me?
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, Without A Trace or the F.B.I. I do however own my imagination, my Muse, my insanity, my fangirliness and my dreams.
A/N:- So many plot ideas, not enough time to write them all. So I thought I'd open up a selection so I can write whatever I'm in the mood for. This fic is gonna be a fair few chapters long and there's potential for a sequel but we'll see how it goes.
……… I don't think what happened in London today has really sunk in yet. New York, Bali, Madrid, Istanbul and now my city. It was never a question of 'if', just a question of 'when.' My heart goes out to all those affected, which in a way is all of us. Life isn't fair or just …. it's just really meh sometimes.
Samantha walked into her apartment, dropped her keys on the coffee table and sat down dully on her settee. Frankly, she was still in shock from the double shooting and was trying to fathom why she had even been sent home. If she had not fired then either she or that Carroll guy would have been dead: It had been a clean shooting. Jack had said that he had believed her …….. before proceeding to send her home anyway.
She leant back on the settee, frustrated at the way Jack had treated her. Sure the shooting in the bookstore had given her problems with her leg but it hadn't messed with her head. Samantha rubbed her temples with her fingers, trying to think clearly. For her, her work was practically her whole life …. no, who was she kidding – it was her whole life: Being out there on the field, helping people, the thrill of the chase …………….. it's what she lived for. But since she had been shot it seemed like her whole life was unravelling.
After being back on the job for one day she was going to be stuck behind a desk for goodness knows how long whilst the OPR carried out their investigation. And she thought being bored out her mind at home recuperating from the hostage situation had been bad. An endless pile of paperwork would be even worse.
She knew she should stop stewing over it. What was done was done and she would just have to live with it. She looked around her apartment. It really needed a tidy – something which Samantha rarely had the energy for, ever since Barry Mashburn put a hole in her leg. Sure everyone at the office had offered to help her out: Danny had offered to do her shopping for her and Vivian had practically begged to be allowed to come round and clean and do her washing but she had refused all offers of help politely and after the third attempt to get her to agree had failed, they gave up, knowing how much Samantha prided herself on being independent.
They were like one big happy in that respect, and Samantha considered the people she worked with as the nearest thing to family she had. She was comfortable enough with each of them to point out their mistakes and voice her opinion without having to pause and consider their feelings first ………… well that wasn't exactly true. Her and Martin hadn't quite reached that happy place yet and she wasn't sure if it was just because he was new or whether there was something simmering underneath, but there was definitely some awkwardness between them and a slight barrier which only appeared when they were alone together, not discussing a case.
When she had been stuck at home recovering, Danny had visited her every other night, sharing every minute detail of his latest date or something funny he had seen on TV to cheer her up.
Jack had come at least once a week but only made a fleeting visit to check up on her. He was a good person and a good boss but things had never been the same - and would never be the same - since their affair had ended. Even outside of work they kept their relationship more professional than any normal friendship would be and when she had tried to thank him for trading himself for her during the hostage situation, he had interrupted and firmly told her he would have done the same thing for anyone of them. She was okay with the way things were with them. She always knew that although they had moved on, things would never be able to be truly normal between them.
Vivian had popped in every Friday evening armed with a piece of homemade cake and all of the week's newspapers and magazines. She would stay and have a coffee and the two women would chat about the week's cases and Vivian would narrate all the latest office gossip.
Martin had only visited her twice and she hadn't expected anything more since she hadn't known him for as long as she had known the others. The first time he brought some flowers and chocolate and they made some polite conversation on her doorstep before Martin left, hurrying to work. The second time, Jack had called to say that Martin was dropping some files over at her place to keep her involved in the cases. She had opened the door to find Martin standing there, files tucked under his arm, holding about eight carrier bags full of groceries in his hands. He hadn't offered to do the shopping or checked with her to see if she even needed anything – he had just gone out there and bought enough food to feed a family of four. She had tried to beg him to take it away but he had just walked in and started unpacking the bags in the kitchen without a word. If truth be told, she would have argued further if she wasn't so speechless at such a bold gesture, especially coming from Martin. She had thanked him hesitantly and they drank some soda on the sofa as he talked her through the files. They had then gone on to make awkward chit-chat about the weather and work before their conversation dried up and Samantha was secretly quite glad he had refused her offer of dinner. There was only so much two people could chat about with showing any sort of emotion to each other – and since both of them seemed reluctant to open up and relax with each other, it made the conversation very strained. So it was somewhat surprising that on his way out that night, Martin had given her a small, hesitant smile and told her to phone him if she ever needed anything, even if it was just someone to talk to.
Samantha sighed, drawing herself back to the present and cleared the two-week-old newspapers off the armchair and stood up to take them to the bin. It was only when she was walking to the kitchen that she noticed how much her injured leg was aching. Still, nothing that a hot bath and some bubble bath couldn't cure.
However, as she lay soaking up the warmth in the bath, her thoughts involuntarily returned to today's shooting. Had she really needed to fire? Couldn't she have talked her way out of it? They say that your first instinct was usually correct but what if the fact she had just been shot had clouded her judgement? Would the OPR investigation conclude that she had been too over eager to pull the trigger? A shiver went down her spine as doubt about the necessity of the shooting flooded her brain. What if she had just wanted to take out the frustration, that being shot had caused her, on someone? She took a deep breath, climbed out of the bath and put on some fresh clothes. She needed something to distract her from these thoughts that were eating her up. She grabbed her phone and was about to call Danny when she remembered him vaguely saying something about meeting up with his brother. She thought about Vivian but she wasn't that selfish to call her away from her family just because she was beating herself up over nothing. Martin. Maybe he would be free. Plus he would be able to tell her what he thought of the shooting since he was there. But her finger hesitated over the 'dial' button. It just seemed too ……. desperate. Besides he had probably made plans. She thought about the time he had asked her out for drinks after the 'Georgia Peach' case …….. he was a nice guy … maybe that had been why they had just distanced themselves subconsciously because they were afraid of what would happen if they did open up………….
Samantha grabbed her jacket and keys and decided to head back to the office. If Martin was there then maybe he wouldn't mind spending sometime with her, if not then she would just grab some paperwork and make a start on that.
……………………………………………………………
Her plan to block out the thoughts of the shooting by listening to music during the cab ride back to the Bureau had failed. No matter what she listened to, whether it was angry and loud or soothingly quiet all she could fixate on was the two bodies lying on the grass surrounded by the money that the wind had blown out from the bag. Two men whom she had killed. Justified or not, she had still ended two lives today. Sure it hadn't been the first time she had killed in this job, and it wasn't going to be the last, but having been shot herself it was like the magnitude of the act was multiplied a hundred times.
Samantha swiped in and passed through security and walked into the empty elevator, resting her head against the cold metal wall as she waited for it to reach the fourth floor. For the first time in her life she really felt like she was losing control of herself. Everything had happened so fast and it seemed like the whole of today had passed her by like she was stuck in a dream, watching her life from the outside.
The corridor, usually bustling during the day with smartly dressed Agents hurrying to and from cases, was practically empty now except from a couple of janitors and the few members on night shift. As she walked into the dimly lit office and saw it was deserted, she couldn't help feeling incredibly disappointed. She really needed to see a friendly face right now to offer her a few comforting words. Hell, she would even take seeing Jack, even if she was still mad at him for his lack of faith in her.
Sighing, she walked aimlessly over to her desk. Now she was here, she didn't think she could even find any work to do since either Martin or Danny had probably written the report for the case anyway.
"Hey, what are you doing here?"
Samantha turned round with a start. As FBI Agents they all prided themselves on being alert and on guard all the time but lost in her own thoughts, she hadn't heard anyone approaching. She watched as Martin slipped a file into the out tray. He must have stayed behind to finish the report on the shooting. Suddenly she wasn't sure what to say. To say she came all the way back to the office just to find someone to talk to sounded really lame and the fact that she wanted to talk specifically to him sounded even more needy. Besides admitting she wasn't all right was a new experience for Samantha and she hated feeling this feeble.
"I forgot something." she said quickly. Even to her it didn't sounded remotely believable. Usually when she was down she was still able to keep up an act and create a façade but right now she felt her barriers crumbling.
Martin stood there waiting for her to elaborate and she shifted awkwardly.
"The kids are all right?" she asked changing the subject.
"That's what Roger Daltry says." Martin replied.
Samantha smiled weakly at Martin's reference to 'The Who'. He was trying to cheer her up and she appreciated the effort – she really did, but most of all she appreciated him just standing there in front of her now. "Right. Yeah." she said acknowledging his comment. She forced another smile and shifted from foot to foot. This was awkward and she was only too aware of the distance she had put between them on other occasions. She was just too used to pushing people away so it was no surprise that when she actually needed someone to talk to she realised that, in truth, she didn't actually have anyone.
"Get some sleep, will you?" Martin said looking at her questioningly and she felt embarrassed. She knew he was surprised at seeing her so unsure of herself. She hesitantly met his gaze and knew her vulnerability was shining right through.
"Yeah, I just got to ….. find the thing that I forgot ….. before …" Samantha said robotically.
"Right."
"Yeah." she knew that what she had mumbled had come out so incoherently and she felt stupid.
"Okay." Martin said not convinced. She knew he didn't buy her excuses and they were now making one-word conversation because he was afraid to push her and ask her to tell him the truth but at the same time didn't want to leave her like this.
Samantha felt like the longer she stood there with him, the more foolish she would look. He was looking at her almost pleading with her to open up to him. Today just continued to get more and more surreal. The awkward silence was suffocating her and she knew that one more second looking at Martin and she would fall in a heap on the floor and breakdown. "Goodnight." she said.
"Goodnight." he replied with a soft sigh. She was sending him away again. He hated leaving her like that but Samantha knew what she wanted and he reached down and picked up his case.
Samantha exhaled and turned back to her dark desk, feeling listless and lonely again. She had come to find Martin to talk to him but even she found that too hard. What was wrong with her? Why did she have to feel so self-conscious about opening up for once?
She heard him sling his backpack over his shoulder and walk towards the door and she suddenly turned round. "Martin?" she called impulsively. She just couldn't let him walk away. She needed this. She didn't want to spend the evening alone again, especially not tonight.
As he turned around, she saw the startled look on his face and also noticed how tired he looked. The case had got to him too. As he started to walk back to her she took a few steps forward as well and tried not to feel so insecure. "You know how you said we should get a drink sometime?" she started. She really hoped he didn't have anywhere to go tonight. She knew Martin was the kind of guy she wanted to be with tonight. Danny would try and cheer her up and they would have a laugh but she got the impression that Martin would be more understanding. She knew there were times during cases when he really wanted to ask her something but was afraid of prying into her personal life knowing how much she hated talking about her past or sharing her emotions. He wanted to listen and she wanted to talk. Even now, looking at him, she got a flashback of a few hours previously … the way he looked at her after she had pulled the trigger in the park. Samantha felt a lump come up in her throat.
"Yeah." he answered. If he was surprised at her asking him out for a drink then he did a good job at hiding it, just waiting for her to finish her sentence.
"I could really use a drink." she said weakly. Her grip on her emotions was loosened with the release of actually admitting she needed something. She knew Martin knew she was talking metaphorically. Of course she didn't need a drink. She just needed his company. He was looking at her with a warmth in his eyes and for the first time in her life she really just wanted to sit on the edge of the desk and burst into tears. She prayed he wouldn't ask her whether she was all right because at this moment she would have just lost the already feeble hold she had on herself.
As if he could read her thoughts he didn't mention how broken and helpless she looked but instead relaxed into his charming self. "Well …… nothing worse than a beautiful woman drinking alone."
Now Samantha realised why she had wanted Martin to be here tonight. He was such a gentleman and so sweet. She pressed her fingertips against the bridge of her nose buying her time to regain a hold on herself.
"Yeah." she whispered feeling herself calm down a bit.
Martin motioned with his head. "Okay." she said softly, following him out the office.
Talking would be a new experience for her but it was better than sitting alone at home crying, leaving tearstains all over her paperwork.
A/N:- I hope that wasn't really bad as a first chapter. I think the first chapters are always the hardest. Anyway, back to watching the news I guess. Shall be update-tastic as soon I return from my Paris trip and after HP6 ...